Sir Ephram and the Great Warlock Brown
by Jack B. Nimble
Summary: [One Shot] Ephram fantasizes about Amy. It's Everwood á la bmovie medieval love story.


Author's Note:  
  
Just watched 'Fiddler on the Roof.' last night. Dream sequences rock! This is only a one shot like 'Nothing But Dot Net.' Don't expect another installment. Read and review. Hell, read the rest of mine and review those too. ;) Um, what else. Oh, the characters aren't mine. Not for lack of trying, but Berlanti refuses to sell me Gregory Smith.  
Cheers.  
Jack B. Nimble  
  
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Sir Ephram, late of York, reined in his black charger at the base of the tower. Looking up at the granite structure, he silently cursed the evilness of the lord who'd caused it to be built. Were it not for Lord Abbott's foul existence - and that of his oafish son - the Lady Amy would have been his long ago.  
A movement in one of the tower windows caught Sir Ephram's attention. He watched, impassively, as a delicate curtain of lace was drawn aside. His heart raced, however, when the damsel in question leaned out and looked directly at him.  
"Prince Colin?" she called. No! It cannot be! After months spent vanquishing the twin evils of her father and vile brother, she called out another's name! Sir Ephram cleared his throat.  
"Nay, my lady. 'Tis me, Sir Ephram. Of, uh, York," he finished lamely. The look on her face brought his heart into a downward spiral. Truly, he had nothing personal against the Prince of Everwood, but it wrenched something inside of him to hear his one love call the man's name. With all Sir Ephram had been through, he was sure he had earned her devotion. "Prince Colin is, well, indisposed. I've come to rescue you and take you away from this horrible tower in which your pernicious father has shut you."  
A rather unladylike snort drifted down to him.  
"Away, Sir Knight. I shall prolong my wait for my lord Prince and hope, nay pray that he shall come to take me away from this dreadful existence."  
Was the lady an imbecile? Had she not heard of the riding accident suffered by Prince Colin? Her 'savior' lay comatose in a Hospitaliar priory not three days ride from this place. He was about to argue with her decision when she spoke again.  
"I shall not leave this tower without my Prince, Sir Knight. Be away, now!"  
And with that, the Lady closed the curtains and disappeared inside.  
Sir Ephram shuffled uneasily in his saddle. He desperately wanted the woman inside, but was reluctant to abduct her from this place against her will. He sighed. The only thing he could do was find a way for Prince Colin to be cured and hope for the best.  
As the entire world knew, the Prince of Everwood had taken a nasty fall during a sporting ride several months before. Sir Ephram's rival for the Lady's heart had been unconscious ever since. Most people thought the illness was magical in nature, for an injury such as the Prince took either killed a man or left him whole. The Prince had neither died nor survived, but rather drifted in twilight between death and life. Sir Ephram knew of only one man who might be able to save the Prince, not that it was a pressing issue for the knight. Ever since he'd met the Lady Amy, she'd talked of no one else. Now Sir Ephram had to ask a favor of his most hated enemy in order to continue trying to win her true love? Ah, how strange the mind of the gods and how cruel the works of their hands.  
Without dwelling on the issue, Sir Ephram touched spurs to horse and galloped off toward the lair of the Great Warlock Brown.  
  
The Great Warlock Brown was a strange creature. Legend held that he had been the most powerful sorcerer in history until a great tragedy sometime in the recent past. When he had arrived, unexpectedly, on the edges of the lands of Everwood, people saw immediately that he was a man to be held in awe. He could work the most miraculous cures for people using methods known only to initiates of some higher power, yet he also had visions which unsettled the people. More than one of the townsfolk had encountered him carrying on a conversation with nothing more solid than a breeze.  
To make matters more complicated, especially for those who reluctantly sought his aid, he had employed an aged outlaw to be his assistant in his arcane doings. A woman, to be exact, shunned by the folk of Everwood for actions and deeds that seemed most normal and mundane to Sir Ephram, but which caused the people of this place to rise in uproar and cast her out.  
The woman had married.  
And it hadn't gentled her in the slightest.  
This caused Sir Ephram no small amount of concern as he picked his way through the dense underbrush toward the Warlock's abode. She was a fierce woman, given to black moods and possessed of a profound loyalty to her new master. If Sir Ephram was to be successful, he would have to find a way past the Warlock's most formidable retainer. Perhaps she would remember his lineage and step aside in respect for his family.  
The knight considered that problem as he stepped into the clearing in which stood the demesne of the Great Warlock Brown. Almost immediately, a shadow fell over him and he looked up with a start. True to his expectations the woman, Edna, loomed over him like a towering tree. To be perfectly honest, she was actually shorter in stature than the young knight. Her presence, however, seemed to fill the clearing as Sir Ephram slowed and stopped in front of her.  
"Good morning, Dame Edna," he began. The churlish woman cut him off with a curious gesture. She stiffened and brought her right hand up to her forehead, as though shading her eyes. With a gravelly voice, she barked, "Greetings, young sir!"  
Sir Ephram blinked. Getting past the wench might be easier than he expected.  
When she didn't move a muscle, he took off his helm.  
"Be at ease, good woman." The old lady immediately relaxed, though she still blocked his path.  
"What business have you here, knight?" she asked. No, ordered. Sir Ephram had long imagined the woman to have been in a military order at some time in the past. Her bearing and words smacked of Templar or Hospitaliar training.  
"I've come to have words with your master, the Warlock Brown."  
The woman narrowed her eyes at his voice - lighter and less regal outside the great helm he'd presently removed - and peered closely at his face.  
"Ah, Sir Ephram, yes. Yes. He's in the cottage."  
She fell in step with him as he began walking toward the rude hut in which the Warlock made his home. The legends said that Warlock Brown had lived come from lands far away and had lived in a great spire of metal and glass. Which is why, Sir Ephram suspected, they were mere legends, not reality. A building of metal he could imagine, but glass? How would one disrobe without scandalizing every lady of gentle birth for miles around?  
The door to the cottage creaked open before the knight was within ten paces. From within stepped the Great Warlock himself. A tall, well-built man of indeterminate age, the bearded sorcerer was dressed in a white robe that reached to the ground. A strange instrument was draped around his neck and he carried some sort of board with parchment upon it, as well as a featherless quill. He also was carrying on a lively conversation with, well, no one.  
Apparently that hadn't changed, despite the most fervent wishes of Sir Ephram.  
The Great Warlock Brown almost walked into the knight, stopped only by a warning from whomever, or whatever, he was conversing with. A long moment passed, during which the feared sorcerer and the noble knight simply stared at one another. The Warlock's assistant stood to one side, watching the exchange. Her patience, however, was notably short.  
"Well, knight? Have you something to ask the master?" the woman growled. Sir Ephram startled at the sound and his amour jingled as he went to one knee. He concentrated on the hem of the man's robe, not daring to get caught up in the wily gaze a second time.  
"I've come to ask a boon, lord wizard," the young man began. The silence in the glade was deafening. Clearing his throat, he continued. "As you may know, the Prince of Everwood is gravely wounded, and needs your assistance. He lies in an endless sleep and none of the royal magi have been able to rouse him. Only powerful magic such as your own can cause him to live again."  
Sir Ephram went quiet, waiting for a response - any response - from the fearsome mage. After a moment, the man spoke.  
"Ah," said the warlock in a contemplative tone. "Yes, I see. Your concern for the prince is based upon desire of some sort." Sir Ephram looked up in astonishment. Could the man see into his very soul? What nature of person had that sort of power? He saw the warlock nod slightly - at someone beyond Sir Ephram's ability to see. The warlock cocked his head to one side and frowned, as though listening to the response of the wind.  
"A young woman, yes," the warlock went on, still nodding. "I see a girl in a tower. You talk of the Prince, but your heart sings for this girl." Sir Ephram's stomach turned to lead. The man could see into his deepest emotions! "The Prince is but a fleeting thought in your mind. You do not care about him; your only thoughts are for this maiden in the tower."  
Sir Ephram tried to talk, but the warlock overrode him.  
"I will help you, Sir Ephram. Not out of any concern for this girl in her tower, but because that is what I do. I build miracles with the amount of effort a baker turns wheat into a loaf of bread. Begone. When you return to the tower, the Prince will be whole once more and shall join you."  
The young knight rose to his feet, watching the grave face of the sorcerer. The man hadn't changed expression, but merely nodded once at the knight and turned to leave. Dame Edna, followed him into the cottage and shut the door.  
"Thank you," breathed Sir Ephram, "Father."  
A disembodied voice came back to him:  
"That's my boy."  
  
Days later, Sir Ephram drew rein once more at the base of the granite tower of Abbott. This time, however, he was accompanied by the regal form of Prince Colin of Everwood. The Prince was dressed in fine purple brocade, glorious in comparison to the knight's own black surcoat. A golden coronet encircled the royal brow, glistening in the morning light. Sir Ephram felt somewhat irritated at the man's aloof demeanor. Surely blood and birth meant no more than deeds, did they not? He'd tried to draw the Prince into conversation during the ride to the tower, only to be rebuffed on each attempt.  
As they dismounted, Sir Ephram watched the lacy curtains in the tower window move to one side. The beautiful form of the Lady Amy leaned out the window, peering down at the two travelers. At once, the woman gasped! Sir Ephram watched those lovely eyes grow wide and fancied he could feel her heart beating rapidly within her breast as she saw his royal companion. She disappeared back inside only to appear moments later through the door in the base of the tower.  
Sir Ephram forced himself not to react as the young lady threw her arms around the Prince. He stared, instead, over their heads at the tower as though studying the blocks of grey stone. A giggle from the couple made his teeth grind in his head. After everything he'd done for her, she couldn't see that his love for her was true? Why, oh why, must he be forced to tame his longing for her!  
For a fleeting instant, he wanted to cast down his gage and challenge the upstart Prince to a duel for the hand of this woman. He choked down the furious feeling and, with difficulty, calmed himself. Angry words interrupted his thoughts and he reluctantly dragged his gaze down to the Prince and his Lady.  
"But he's only a knight, my love," the Prince was saying.  
"His devotion to me, to us, kept me sane while you were asleep, my Prince. It would be unworthy of me not to acknowledge his good deeds," Lady Amy told the man. She turned away from her royal suitor and daintily lifted the edge of her skirt, picking her way across the ruined ground toward Sir Ephram. The Prince's sculptured features clouded over with a fury the likes of which the young knight had never seen on the man. Before she could take two steps, the Prince grabbed her elbow and jerked her back toward him.  
"He's nobody, Lady. Let him rest secure in the knowledge that he's brought our true love back together once more. He's a knight. It's his duty to help those in distress."  
Sir Ephram blinked watery eyes, feeling a low growl building in his throat. He found his hand on his sword without remembering putting it there. Only the scrape of mail against skin brought him around before he could draw the weapon and skewer this ungrateful wretch. To Sir Ephram's surprise, the Lady Amy seemed to be unhappy with her Prince. In fact, she looked downright pissed.  
"Take. Your. Hand. Off. Me," she said in a flat tone, biting off each word. The Prince blinked in surprise, his hand coming away from her arm with a speed akin to that of a dragon.  
"B-but, my lady," Prince Colin stuttered, "I only wish to take you back." She cut him off with a response that Sir Ephram would cherish the rest of his days.  
She backhanded the Prince. The sound was uncommonly loud, echoing off the stone tower like a thunderclap.  
"I see you now for what you really are, Prince Colin," she said vehemently. "You do not love me, you craven fool, but only wish to possess me. Sir Ephram," the knight's heart soared with joy when she pointed at him, "had been true to me because he truly loves me, not because he sees me as a toy or treasure to be put on display in his castle."  
BEEEEP.  
The Prince, Sir Ephram noted with satisfaction, was unable to say a word, merely raising a hand to his reddened cheek with chagrin. The royal eyes tracked Lady Amy as she strode briskly to Sir Ephram and took his hand in hers. With a final withering glance at her royal suitor, the Lady dragged Sir Ephram inside the tower and slammed the door shut.  
BEEEEP.  
The young knight looked at the back of the door, filled with wonder at the events that had just taken place. Could it be true? Could the lady have seen his love and devotion and chosen him over the Prince? She wanted him! He was elated and a wide grin spread over his face as he turned to his wonderful Lady.  
Who waited, stark naked, just behind him.  
And then she -  
BEEEEP.  
Ephram awoke with a yell, hand flying out of its own volition to shut off the alarm clock. He fell back on his pillows, breathing heavily and becoming uncomfortably aware of - he lifted up his comforter and swore.  
The door to his room opened and Andy stuck his head in.  
"Ephram? Everything all right in here?" his father asked. Ephram angrily waved him off, hastily dropping the blanket back in place. Ephram flushed a deep red as he shooed his father out of the room.  
"Go to hell, Dad," he said, berating himself as his voice broke. Andy shook his head and walked out.  
Just before the door shut Ephram heard his father mutter, "That's my boy." 


End file.
